All That Jazz
by flirtandflounce
Summary: 1923, Quinn Fabray stumbles into New York City seeking thrills and adventure. There she finds a speakeasy called the Glee Club, where she finds herself in a whirlwind of stars like Rachel Berry and the dangerous bootleggers like Noah Puckerman.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

**Author's Note:** So this came to me completely on a whim. I'm not even sure where this is going per say, but I can tell you that I'm almost 80% clear that I wouldn't abandon it. This won't be just a Quinn central fic, but all the characters from the tv show will be incorporated in some way. I'm not an expert on the 1920s and I don't pretend to be, so if there is anything that is incorrect, please, feel free to correct me. I know the characters say Quinn and Puck, but don't expect it to be the Quick show. I'm definitely looking to incorporate all different kinds of pairings, like the show does. So don't fret. But anyway, enjoy and review please!

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The streets of New York City bred an aura of emptiness. In was only a half past eleven o'clock and the shops lining the street were darkened, the signs in the windows read closed. Not a single street lamp was on and there were no homeless wandering the streets begging for money or a place to stay. The usual clamor of cars stuck in traffic or zooming down the streets was no where to be found. All was silent.

But if one would look closer, they would see just below Harvey's Hamburger Hop, there was a thin set of iron wrought stairs, leading below to the basement. Just there, the tiniest speck of light was visible. And if one listened very carefully, ignoring all the chatter in their own mind, they could hear the faintest sound of jazz music. However, most are not that observant and rather keep walking by. But Quinn Fabray, standing under the dark street lamp, was observant, almost painfully so.

And if one was to see Quinn Fabray on the street, they would have not looked twice. She was beautiful, but not remarkably so. She still wore her honey-colored hair in the style of the Midwest, long and braided back along her neck. Her eyes, wide and bark colored were looking around in anticipation.

Just then, Quinn Fabray's eyes sparked with interest. The faintest sound filled the air, a light and carefree giggle. Quinn Fabray's delicate face spread into a grin. She quickly picked up her skirt and hurried quietly down the sidewalk.

Just a few yards ahead of Quinn was a group of people. At first glance, these people would be barely noticeable, all were donned in black from head to toe, and moved stealthily across the street and toward the hidden stairs under Harvey's. In the center of the group, was a tiny girl, who looked just Quinn's age of nineteen. She moved as if she were floating; the black fringe at the bottom of her dress shook elegantly at every step she took. Had Quinn been closer to the small group of people, she would have been able to notice the attention that the girl radiated. Almost as if she were the sun and the rest of the group moved around her. Even from far away Quinn knew that type of girl, who dressed in the latest styles and spoke the freshest slang, was the kind of girl you wanted to be around if you wanted to get anywhere in life.

So Quinn snuck up behind them, down the stairs and past the Harvey's darkened sign. At the bottom of the stairs the flapper girl's group had stopped. The boy standing just to the left of the flapper girl knocked three times on the door in a pattern that Quinn quickly remembered for later.

It was then that Quinn completely looked at the girl. She was small, probably just over five feet, but wore black Mary-Jane heels that were taller than any pair Quinn Fabray had ever seen at home. Her legs were long and covered in black fishnet stockings, accentuating the fine lines of her calves. The hemline of her dress stopped a few inches above her knees, but the fringe hung longer than that, it clung loosely to her petite shape. But the most remarkable part of the girl was her hair; the dark chocolate brown shade was one Quinn had only seen a few times and it was cut in a drastic and high fashioned bob, with bangs that hung straight across her forehead and length only to her chin.

The door then quickly swung open, jumping Quinn away from her observations. Out from the door stepped a large dark skinned man, dressed in a black tuxedo. His stoic expression was enough to send Quinn running back to Lima, Ohio as fast as she could. But Quinn grabbed the railing and pressed back against, hoping to blend in with the shadows of the dark street.

"Good evening Miss Berry," the doorman said, looking down at the dark haired girl, who Quinn assumed was 'Miss Berry'.

"Good evening Reggie," Miss Berry coed back, pursing her cherry lips up at him. She then winked playfully at Reggie and took two steps forward. She leaned up on her toes, with her heels lifting off the pavement. One of her hands covered in black lacy gloves brushed a piece of hair behind the mans year. She leaned in closer until her lips were only centimeters from him before whispering something unintelligible.

Miss Berry pulled back quickly, gave him a flirty shoulder shrug just as Reggie stepped out of the way to allow her and her friends inside. Seeing the opportunity, Quinn hurried down the stairs after them, staying close behind a few girls in the back of the group.

Her entry was in sight! She only had a few more paces to take before she was inside. Her very first entrance to a speakeasy! Quinn had been waiting years, she'd heard whispers and take about how glamorous and Hollywood they were. She heard once that there were attractive men everywhere you looked and the liquor poured freely. Quinn hadn't ever had a drink before, so when Prohibition rang through the streets, she herself was not affected. But everyone else was, it seemed the entire country was running itself around alcohol these days.

And then, Quinn's dreams came to a shattering halt. Just as Quinn was about to take her final step into the club, Reggie the doorman slid in front of her. He looked down at her, in his eyes brewing annoyance.

Quickly, Quinn gave him her best seductive smile, one she practiced in her mirror for years but never actually had the chance to use. "I'm with them."

Reggie didn't blink. "Get lost kid."

Quinn narrowed her eyes. That was another thing about Quinn Fabray that most people would not be able to tell from just looking at her. Quinn was the determined type, she didn't like to be undermined, and nothing and nobody stood in her way. She titled her head to the side, "Reggie, was it? Miss Berry doesn't like to hear the password until ten minutes before she enters, let alone tell anyone else. I just follow in behind."

"Get out of here." Reggie snapped one last time. "Or I'll toss you out."

Quinn glared at him, "I don't think you understand sir-"

But the door was slammed in her face before she could even finish her sentence.

Defeated, Quinn spun around on the heels of her feet. That was the third speakeasy she was rejected to in the last week. Quinn had been uptown, downtown, every single type of town in the last month. And no place would accept a girl like her.

She sighed, and woefully took the steps one at a time. She couldn't think of anything else to do anymore. The job she had wasn't paying very well and Daddy was still providing money since he thought she was in Washington D.C. studying art, she had time. But Quinn didn't like feeling purposeless, like she was just an empty shell, waste of space.

Maybe she should go back home. Lima had a place for her, she was the daughter of the richest man in town, CEO of Fabray Fine Dining. Quinn could go home, have her pick of the finest gentlemen in town, marry and have lots of babies. But that wasn't anything she wanted. It sounded like such a bore.

Quinn wandered around the side of the building until she settled on a cardboard box pushed against the wall. She leaned against her knees and attempted to blink away the tears that were forming in her eyes. She wasn't a crier. She never used to cry. But she found that in New York, tears were easier.

"Hey beautiful."

She looked up, eyes narrowed at whoever was coming to try and pick her up. That had happened many times so far, Quinn was able to easily talk her way out of stick situations. "Excuse me?"

"Hey, hey. It's only a greetin'." The boy put his hands in the air, as if she show her that he was innocent. Quinn didn't back off her glare. "I was only bein' friendly."

"Well, I'm not looking for friends." Quinn countered, looking up and tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

The boy only whistled and raised his eyebrows, "You're quite sharp, you know that?" He tucked his hands into the pockets of her dark trousers and gave her a wolfish grin. "You gonna just sit there on my box or are you going to help me move it inside?"

"What?"

"My box, you're sitting on the last of my boxes. I was just hauling 'em inside."

"I wasn't aware that this belonged to you." Quinn mumbled, pushing herself off the box and taking a step to the side. The boy just gave her an odd glance before picking it up easily. The contents rattled loudly. "Sounds like liquor bottles in there," she said warily.

"That's 'cause it is." He said mockingly, moving toward the back door of the building. He noticed her response, "What? You gonna call the cops on me?"

Quinn pressed her lips together, "No. I was just surprised is all."

"Looks like it. Girl like you."

"Girl like me? What is that supposed to mean?" Quinn leaned one hand on her hip and gave him a haughty glance.

"Exactly like it sounds." The boy clarified, stopping in his tracks to turn around and look at her. "Like you ain't got a clue what it's like here. Look at you, you look like you just jumped off the train from the middle of nowhere."

"Lima." Quinn said. He gave her a confused glance. "That's where I'm from. It's in Ohio."

The boy tutted and moved to walk back toward the door.

"What's your name?" Quinn asked, forwardly.

He stopped again and looked over his shoulder at her, "Puckerman. Noah Puckerman. Most people around here just all me Puck."

"Nice to meet you Puck." Quinn said politely. Puck was attractive, Quinn could not deny that. He was tall and built, she could see his strong arm muscles through his tight white button up shirt. Quinn allowed her eyes to wander across his face, strong jaw and warm eyes. He had a nice smile too, the kind that made you want to smile. Plus his hair, Quinn almost giggled at his hair, shaved on both sides except for a strand in the middle. She had never seen anyone with hair like that before.

"So that's it? You aren't even going to tell me yours?" Puck pressed, giving her a once over.

"I'm Quinn Fabray." She said confidently, looking at him much the same.

"Well Quinn," Puck said, grinning at her. "I've got some advice for you."

"Go on then."

"If a girl like you wants to survive in this town, get into the best clubs, know the right people, you're going to have to make a few changes. Cut your hair, buy some new clothes. Start with that. Maybe even get some thirty something to buy you dinner. Come back here next week, looking all fine and fresh, and I bet you Reggie will let you without the password."

Quinn looked up at him, not sure if she was offended or grateful. "Yeah? And what's the password tonight?"

Puck just looked at her and laughed. "You ain't getting in anymore sweet cheeks."

"For future reference," she pressed.

He chuckled to him and moved toward the door. He opened it with one and hand and started through, not before stopping one more time and poking his head out. "New Directions."

Before Quinn could yell a thanks, the door swung closed and she was surrounded my darkness again.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I really don't own anything. At all.

Author's Note: Wow! I really didn't expect that many amazing reviews, you all are fabulous/awesome/supermegafoxyawesomehot. Seriously, made my last few days to see that people actually liked it, not to mention care about the 1920's like I do. Oh, and seriously, if there is anything wrong in here please let me know. I don't want to look like a douche bag and get basic information wrong. But enough with that, on to the story. Also, please review like last time, it really makes me get excited to write! Therefore, I write faster and probably much more efficient.

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"Baby doll, I can take you from country shab to one hell'uva dame." The barber chair swung around quickly until Quinn Fabray could see her own reflection in the mirror. Self consciously, she touched the ends of her long blonde hair, the last speck of her old life. If it were one of those pictures that were becoming so popular, Quinn imagined her earlier years flashing in her mind, but it wasn't, and Quinn only nodded her head.

Kurt Hummel gave her a cheerful wink and ran is fingers through the back of the blonde hair. He owned the place, Hummel Hair Happenin's. It was closest place to Quinn's hotel, and she heard some good things about the joint, so she decided to take Puck's advice. From the outside, Hummel's looked like any other store on the street, it had a nifty trademark barber pole spinning outside with little girls racing around with lollypops. However, the moment Quinn had stepped inside, she knew it wasn't like any other.

The walls were lined with fluorescent lights above each and every mirror, which were like glitzy vanities from Hollywood. The wallpaper was pink and clashed in a way that was fashionable with the red barber chairs, plump and much more comfy than they looked. Scattered along the walls were fashion posters, some of movie stars and others of people that Quinn had never seen before. One, however, stood out along the rest. "I know that girl!" Quinn observed, pointing the poster on the back wall. "I saw her last night."

Kurt didn't even have to look to know who she was talking about. He spoke, "You slay me Fabray, everyone in New York knows who that is."

"I'm not from New York," Quinn corrected, looking up at him in the mirror, her eyes narrowed. Kurt just tutted his tongue and looked back at her. Quinn thought he was handsome, in quite the queer way.

"Baloney!" he shouted sarcastically, starting to move her hair around. He reached for the scissors on the counter next to him. "That there is Rachel Berry, only the newest up-and-coming star on the upper east side. You should hear her sing, it's like a thousands angels chorusing in together. I happen to be her personal stylist."

"Really?" Quinn pressed. "I mean, I can tell. You both have such, such _fantastic_ style."

"Save it Blondie, I can tell a girl like you is looking to be a girl like her."

"You know, I've been hearing that a lot since I've gotten to New York, and I have to say that I am not finding that complimentary. I'm trying to reinvent myself and all I'm already getting typified as the girl from outta town."

"Whoa there, calm yourself. I was only saying. Most girls come to my store asking to become an exact replica of Miss Rachel Berry. I was gonna say that a pretty dame like you could pull off and invent a look all your own." Kurt gave her a playful wink and continued cutting her hair. "Besides, I already got an idea for you."

Quinn didn't say anything, she looked down at her hands. Maybe she was making conclusions about everybody in New York too. Especially since meeting Reggie and Miss Berry and Puck a week ago, Quinn was sort of wary of anybody trying to help her. But maybe Kurt would be good for her.

"So why'd you come to New York anyway?" The scissors were flying on the back of her head and Quinn could see a long strand of her hair fall to the ground. She tried to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach that was building with each snip.

She looked down at her hands, "I was looking for a new start. Life back in Ohio, it wasn't exactly the dream."

"You seem well-off, in your Ohio standards I suppose. You from money?"

"You could say that." Quinn replied quietly. "Just by chance, did your parents have silverware and knives with a cursive F at the end?"

"Yeah they did, how'd you know that?"

"That's me. It stands for Fabray."

Quinn was never one who liked to tell about her background. Her family, while she did love them, was too pious, too business oriented for her liking. For Quinn, her life was set out for her, marry a business man and help him run the family business. Then, she'd have lots of babies, preferably boys, who could carry on the Fabray legacy. Quinn saw it as a life of never-ending torture. "I'm just trying to escape and all I've been able to do in this last month is get turned down from every speakeasy and joint in town. And this is my one chance at a lucky break and god dammit I will do anything to see that it succeeds."

She didn't know why, but Quinn felt like Kurt was the type of person she could really talk to. But she supposed that was how all stylists had to be, they couldn't be cold and uptight, no one wants to sit in a chair for hours getting one syllable answers to their questions. Quinn found herself liking Kurt, though she had only been with him for twenty minutes.

A quiet sigh escaped Kurt's mouth as he set down the scissors. "Quinn, if that wasn't the most romantic non-story story I have ever heard." He pressed his hand to his heart, titled his head dramatically, and let out another girly sigh. "Sweetheart, how about I take you out with me and my friends tonight? Show you how real New Yorkers do things."

She turned around and looked up at him, in all of his striped button up oxford and bow-tie glory. "You mean it? I wouldn't want to be a wet blanket on your ritzy New York times."

"Oh please, I love showing new people around! Besides, between you and me," he leaned in closer, as if he didn't want to rest of the salon to hear, "Being friends with a real catch like you might pay off in the long run, especially when you become big and famous like those Cheerios."

"The Cheerios? Like I could ever be as famous as the Cheerios." Quinn laughed. "Don't humor me."

"Doll face, you'll be more famous than those Cheerios. You've got something that they don't."

"And what exactly is that? My virginity?" Quinn laughed again.

"You're clever. And I can bet you each and every one of those girls thinks the square root of four is rainbows. You need brains in this business to make it right. That's why Rachel Berry is going all the way to the top."

Kurt spun Quinn back around in her chair and picked up the scissors. "If you're going to be seen with me, you're going to have to dress a lot better than that."

An hour or so passed before Quinn was out of Hummel's. Kurt had sent her home with more hair products than Quinn had ever owned before and directions to the nearest department store. His clear directions, don't buy anything you'd have wanted to own in Lima, were in the front of her mind.

Everything felt lighter as Quinn made her way down the foreign streets; especially her new hair, cut short to her shoulders and wavy. At first she had protested, but Kurt had ended up giving her bangs, less than the thick bangs that Rachel Berry sported, but softer and thinner across her forehead. "A major improvement," he had said.

Quinn made it through the department store in half the time it took at Hummel's. With four new bags of clothes in her arms, Quinn headed back to her hotel to get ready for her big night ahead of her.

Her hotel room, a bit of a splurge thanks to her father, was decorated in swirls of gold. The silk curtains over the window were gold and the loveseat underneath, that she had yet to sit on but held her new bags of clothes, matched the same color. On the walls were paintings that Quinn had never seen before and judged that they were originals. One painting, which Quinn was particularly fond of featured two young boys playing in the meadows. The greens on the grass and trees reminded her of the summers she spent on her grandfathers farm in Ohio and the wondrous times she spent there with her sister.

Of course, those wondrous times never lasted. Quinn and her sister were no longer close, and Quinn couldn't even think of the last time they'd shared a personal conversation. Just a week before Quinn left, her sister had told her that she wouldn't make it anywhere in life. That Quinn was destined for a big house on the same street as their parents. That was mostly the reason Quinn left, with the bogus, phony lie that she wanted to study art. Quinn didn't even like art that much, in fact, she knew barely anything about it.

With a twirl, Quinn spun around the floor of her hotel room. She hummed to a jazz tune she heard earlier in the day and picked up one of her new dresses. Maybe things would turn out well, so far it had been a great day. She'd made a friend, made connections, and hopefully would show up to the club dressed to impress.

As she twirled and twirled, almost giggly to herself, she was interrupted by a curt knock on the door. Quinn stumbled to a stop, dropped the dress on the bed and walked cautiously to the door. She had made no friends at the hotel, she didn't even tell Kurt where she was staying. Confused, she opened the door, but only just barely.

Standing in front of her was a handsome boy, taller than any boys she'd ever seen back home. Up and up she went until she met his face, grinning down at her boyishly. She couldn't help but smile back. He hadn't even spoken, but Quinn felt like he was the nicest person she'd met in all of New York. "Oh," he looked away from her and blushed. "I'm sorry miss, it's just, you forgot this in the lobby."

The boy was holding one of her shopping bags in his hand, "Oh dear!" she cried, reaching out to take it. "I can't believe I forgot that! Thank you."

"Uh, yeah." he smiled, looking down at his feet as he handed her the bag. "Sorry to disrupt you ma'am."

"Oh it's no bother, thank you very much for bringing it up here." Quinn gave him her warmest smile, one her daddy would say could melt and break hearts at the same time. Her eyes wandered over his outfit- a bellhop uniform, until the landed on his name tag. "Finn, thank you Finn."

Finn gave her another smile. "It's no problem at all miss, I'm just doing my job."

"Quinn, call me Quinn."

"Have a great night Quinn," Finn nodded to her, then moved to back away. Instead, he lingered for a moment, giving her one last look. Quinn looked back at him, thinking to herself how gosh darn cute he really was, before slowly shutting the door behind her.

She slowly moved back into the room and tossed the bag on the bed without thinking. Finn. Finn, he was something. Sure, they'd only exchanged a few words, but Quinn couldn't help but find him perfect. He was kind, cute, and he even brought up her bags! Of course, that was his job, but she wanted to think that was his choice, on his own.

Finn was the type of guy that old Quinn would have gone for. He was sweet and would take care of her. She stopped herself, no, new Quinn didn't need that type of guy. She was independent, she could take care of herself.

She sat herself up, thinking how ridiculous she was being. She had things to do, not daydream about a boy she met for two minutes. She was going to be meeting Kurt and his friends outside his barber shop in less than an hour. She had work to do.

By the time Quinn was ready and on her way to meet Kurt, it was practically pitch black outside. The streets lamps were dimmed again, and Quinn passed by only two or three people on her few block walk over. She appeared calm on the outside, cool, reserved, but if one were to look closely into Quinn Fabray's eyes, they'd see that she was a nervous wreck, terrified for the unknown of what was ahead.

Standing in front of Hummel's was Kurt, taller than Quinn but not nearly as tall as Finn, skinny and handsome with his hair styled perfectly. He wore a bow-tie, strategically matching his shinny blue shoes. Quinn did not recognize the others with him, but noted an Asian and black girl and also a boy in a wheelchair.

She felt very, very out of place. "Quinn!" Kurt called to her, giving her one of his bedazzling smiles. "Everyone, this is Quinn. Quinn this is-"

The boy in the wheelchair cut him off, "Artie Abrams, but most of my friends call me-"

"Artie, we call you Artie." The Asian girl laughed, cutting him off. "I'm Tina."

The black girl gave Quinn a once over, causing Quinn to hold back a glare. "Mercedes Jones, but you probably already knew that."

Quinn didn't want to reply to that, because she obviously had no idea who Mercedes was until now. But she only smiled at all of them. "I'm Quinn Fabray."

"K-k-Kurt's told us all about you." Tina smiled, her pearly white teeth creating a contrast against her cherry red lips. Her dark hair was chopped off higher than her chin, almost shorter than what Quinn saw Rachel Berry had.

"Oh don't worry about that, I just gave them the basics." Kurt covered, linking his arm through Quinn's. "Now, let's go we don't want to me a single moment of the show."

"The show?" Quinn asked, allowing Kurt to lead her down the sidewalk, the opposite way of the club she had seen Rachel go into and where she had met Puck. "Isn't it that way?"

"Oh, we're not going to McKinley's." Kurt titled his head back and a girly laugh escaped. "They usually only have amateur acts on Tuesday's and so we always check out the competition."

"The competition? You have competition at," she paused, what did he call it again? Oh yes. "McKinley?"

"You, doll face," Artie said, rolling up next to her, "have a lot to learn."

Quinn agreed, but didn't say anything else. She felt almost suffocated in that group. Sure, it was nice to be with other people and not lurking in behind, trying to sneak into clubs. But these people were not her type of people. She did not get on with them well. Quinn was, for lack of a better word, snobbish and also quite judgmental.

They came up to a fancier looking place than Quinn had thought of McKinley's. The neighborhood, in general, seemed cleaner and more put together. The shops were fancy boutiques and expensive restaurants. There were quite a lot of people standing outside and each street light was on and bright as it could possibly be. Kurt led them to the back of a building were he knocked three times on the door.

A bulky, black man answered, one Quinn couldn't help but compare to Reggie back at McKinley's. He looked down at Kurt, expectantly. "Vocal Adrenaline." Kurt said, giving the man a flirtatious wink.

The doorman rolled his eyes, then stepped aside.

Quinn took a deep breath, and then took her first steps into her very first club.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, unfortunately.

**Author's Note:** Hello again! Thank you for the reviews last chapter, they were fabulous! Keep 'em coming! Also, there is a link to my tumblr on my authors page if you are at all interested. Aaaand without further ado, here is the chapter! Enjoy! Oh and even though I portray everyone has hating Rachel, that is not the case. I adore her to pieces. Anyway, carry on!

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In the dimly lit corner, at a tiny table, sat a very mesmerized but also very terrified Quinn Fabray. The blonde had one leg crossed over the other and was absentmindedly twirling her finger in the alcoholic beverage that sat in a supposedly classy glass in front her of. Her bark colored eyes scanned the crowd, not looking for anyone, just simply observing.

For being in her first speakeasy, Quinn Fabray was not doing much. All she had done since the moment she entered was sit down in the corner and allow Kurt to order her a drink. After a few minutes of Kurt mindlessly talking her ear off, he and Mercedes drifted off into the crowd. Tina and Artie, who Quinn quickly realized were a couple, found themselves their own table next to her and were currently attached at the mouth in a way Quinn would never be seen like in public, let alone in private. Quinn had only kissed a boy twice and each time they tried to go farther, she had only been able to picture the Lord in her mind and how ashamed he would be of her.

But how far she had come from then. Here she was, sitting in an illegal bootlegging club, listening to jazz music and watching other people come close to fornicating in front of her.

In her time there, she had figured out a few things for herself. The name of the current club she was in was called Carmel, and it was the biggest and most well-known for up-coming stars. The password, Vocal Adrenaline was one of the few rotating passwords that the club used each night. Just similar was McKinley, who had a rotating password of New Directions. From Quinn's understanding, McKinley was nothing as popular as Carmel, and was looked as a dump.

The air in Carmel was snobbish. Everyone walked around as if they had a stick up their ass, like they were much to good for the rest of the people who thought they were much too good. The walls were painted either a very dark blue, or it was completely black. The lights were dimmed to far for Quinn to make out anything in the shadows. The bar was surrounded by people, swarming for cheap drinks. Sitting as far back in the corner, Quinn had not been offered a drink by any charming young men, she figured she was hidden to the rest of the club.

The stage was lit up strategically as so the shield the band in the back from the light but obviously the highlight the performers in the front. Quinn had yet to see a performance, but judging by the way people were moving away toward tables, Quinn figured she would be seeing one soon.

Mercedes and Kurt returned to the table, each holding a glass of their own. "He's about to go on."

"Who?" Quinn furrowed her brow.

"Jesse St. James. Of course." Mercedes said matter-of-factly. "I can't believe you don't know who-"

"Mercedes, doll face, calm down. She's knew. She didn't even know who Rachel was."

"Lucky for her." Mercedes replied sassily, leaning back in the chair. Quinn got the impression that Mercedes was not too fond of Rachel Berry. That was something she didn't care to know why, Quinn didn't want to be bothered with useless details. Besides, she was still unsure of Jesse St. James. She merely looked at Kurt for an answer.

"He's huge. Famous. Like the Cheerios. Except much newer, but he still comes back here because this is where he got his start. The manager, Miss Corcoran and him are real close. However, we all expect much more than just friendship, if you know what I mean." Kurt winked, just as the lights dimmed even further and all attention was brought to the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Jesse St. James and the Vocal Adrenaline." The soothing voice came over the loudspeakers, just as all of the lights in the club went out. Quinn felt a wave of panic run through her.

Just as the smooth jazz sounds filled the atmosphere, a single spotlight was flipped on the stage. Standing in the middle was a young man, maybe a year or two older than Quinn. He wasn't particularly tall, but had a strong, muscular upper body, which she could tell through his red button up oxford. He wore black dress pants and suspenders and black and white shoes. Quinn found him to be attractive, but not painstakingly so.

And then, he started to sing.

Maybe it was liquor or maybe it was all the smoke in the air, but Quinn started to feel like she was floating. The sound of his voice was astounding. It was thousands of times better than she had expected. No wonder he was famous, he was wonderful. Quinn found herself swaying back and forth, watching him with expectant eyes.

"What are you doing?" hissed Mercedes, eyeing Quinn with a glare. "You aren't supposed to be enjoying this!"

"Well why not?" Quinn snapped, angry at Mercedes for being on her all night and for disrupting the show. "If I enjoy it, I will."

"Because they are the competition, or hasn't that gotten through your thick skull yet Blondie?" Mercedes spit out the word, like it was a crime to be blonde.

"Listen here Mercedes," Quinn snarled, her eyes flaring. "You don't know me and I don't want you to. So if I want to sit here and enjoy the music, I'm going to. I don't belong to your silly little club, so why should I play sides? I'm trying to have a good time here."

With that Quinn turned away from Mercedes and back to watching Jesse. The dancers had come out, dressed in skimpy outfits that Quinn had never even worn as a swimming suit. The girls were donned in silver and sparkly dresses that barely reached their knees and there seemed to be pieces missing on the sides of their torsos. But Quinn couldn't help but find it sexy and she watched with interest.

"Mercedes," Kurt hissed. "Would you just leave her alone already?"

If Quinn had bothered to look back at Mercedes, she would have been satisfied to see Mercedes glare back at Kurt and then look down at her hands. But Quinn was much too mystified by the performance. Jesse was moving slowly across the stage, running his hands over the girls dancing around him and the other boys who were chorusing in behind him.

Then the song came to it's end. Jesse stopped in the front of the stage and took a bow. The entire club went into fits of applause. Not looking to appear like the rest of them, Quinn merely tapped her hands together twice, just like Kurt and Mercedes did. She didn't bother to see what Artie and Tina were doing, seeing as she figured they were still necking.

Then slowly the club went back to normal, people moved away from the tables and back to their conversations. Kurt and Mercedes spoke for a while, dissecting the performance and just generally tearing it apart. Quinn wasn't all that interested, only chimed in when it was appropriate.

Her mind started to wander, from the fantastic performance she'd just seen, to Finn, to Puck, and then back to the performance. Then something clicked.

That's why she came to New York. Not for exciting experiences and adventures. No, to perform. She wanted to be on the stage. All those years of dance lessons might actually pay off.

"Did you enjoy the show?"

Quinn raised her eyes, only to find standing in front of their table Jesse St. James. He was grinning down at them self-confidently, as if he knew that they did. Self-assured. Quinn liked people who were confident.

He was looking at Kurt, a tiny smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth. Now that she'd seen him perform, Quinn was finding Jesse St. James very attractive. She brought the drink up to her lips and took another sip. "Not especially," Kurt said, appearing bored and looking down at his nails. "I've seen better."

The smirk on Jesse's face didn't falter. "Oh I'm sure, that's why the beautiful blonde back there was swaying along the entire time."

Mercedes elbowed her in the ribs. Quinn tilted her head to side, "I can appreciate good music. The band was fantastic."

She wasn't exactly sure what possessed her to defend Kurt and Mercedes. Maybe it was because they were the first people to be relatively nice to her in New York, and maybe beyond their obvious flaws, she liked them.

That time however, Jesse's smirk fell and seemed to slip onto Quinn's face. "Artistic differences, I suppose." he said carefully, looking her with a strange look on his face. He stared at her for a moment before turning back to Kurt. "Tell Schuester that Miss Corcoran does not value members of rival clubs spying on us."

"Because that's what we're doing, spying." Kurt shook his head. "St. James we wouldn't need to spy on you're washed up performances. We're just here to watch what could have been."

"Don't deny it Hummel, I've seen you in here more than just on Tuesdays. That's enough, I'm bored of this." He gave them one last look before turning away and sauntering off. One of his dancers moved over and swung her arms around his waist. He responded by grabbing her waist and yanking her towards him. Classy.

Quinn sighed and leaned back in her chair, "Well, he was charming."

Mercedes snorted. "Right, nice going there Blondie."

"What? With the swaying or the fact that I dethroned him?"

"Both." They shared a smile before being cut off by Tina and Artie joining them.

"How's about we ditch this place? It's not even worth our time." Artie declared. "We might as well drop in at McKinley for a few."

The group departed Carmel with a chip on each of their shoulders. Kurt had his arms linked through both Mercedes and Quinn. With idle chit-chat the five of them walked down the streets back toward McKinley's. As their journey continued, the people on the sidewalks started to thin out, until they were almost gone completely. Only the faint laughter of Mercedes at one of Kurt's jokes could be heard as the walked down the familiar street in front of Harvey's Hamburger Hop, which, like the rest of the dimmed stores, was closed.

Kurt and Mercedes started down the stairs and Tina rolled Artie to the back of the building, Quinn fell behind for a moment, remembering how just a week ago things were so different. She was a scared young girl, naïve to what was going on. Sure, she wasn't exactly all-knowing now, but she felt better. And the way she was dressed, what with her smart all-white-white-silver-sequins dress that wasn't quite the show-stopper that she'd seen other women wear, it was still relatively modest and reserved. But Quinn felt different. Good, different.

"Are you coming?" Quinn was snapped from her thoughts. Kurt and Mercedes were standing at the bottom of the stairs giving her an annoyed look. Reggie, the doorman, was staring up at her too, probably not even recognizing her.

"Oh yes, of course. I'm terribly sorry," She covered, hurrying down the stairs. Reggie then stepped aside, allowing the three of them to enter. To Kurt she whispered, "Two clubs in one night, I'll say this is more than I've ever done in Ohio!"

Kurt tilted his head back and left out a laugh, "Oh Quinn, the night has barely even started!"

She gave him a curious look just as they fully entered into the club. Quinn was not as awestruck as in Carmel, but something about McKinley was much more comfortable. There were far less people in the smaller space. The walls were painted black, but hung pictures of various stars and people Quinn believed had started out there. The bar, in the front left had two men behind it, serving alcohol at what looked like quite the rapid pace. The stage, which was in the front and center had a jazz band playing smooth music, while the viewers were sitting at the small round tables throughout the club. Quinn had expected Kurt and Mercedes to pull her off to a table, but instead they weaved her through the tables until the reached a small door, which she presumed headed backstage.

Mercedes shoved the door open and the two of them strutted back there. Quinn followed apprehensively. Moving through the space that most have been barely three feet wide, Mercedes and Kurt seemed to be sprinting. Then they came to halt.

"I'm trying to get through guys," a voice sighed. "If you don't move I swear I'll have Schuester kick you out."

"Calm down Rachel, we're just showing the new girl around." Kurt snapped back, reaching behind him to snag Quinn's wrist.

"New girl? We don't need another new girl. We have Tina," the girl who Quinn guessed was Rachel scoffed. Rachel. The Rachel? Rachel Berry? Quinn could not see her, for Kurt must have been much taller than her. But from Kurt's stories, she had thought they must have been such great friends. Apparently not so. "Well, where is she? If you want me to meet her I don't have all night. You know I've got a date."

"With who?" Mercedes snickered, with more sass than she had given Quinn all night.

"A nice gentlemen I met earlier today."

"Poor bastard. Anyway, this is Quinn Fabray. She's from Ohio." Suddenly Quinn was shoved forward, almost right into Rachel.

Quinn Fabray would remember this moment for the rest of her life. Not because it had some grand importance on her future or because it was the moment she realized something. No, it was because it was the moment that Quinn Fabray met her best friend. Of course, they would not be best friends for quite sometime, but their relationship would impact the entire club.

Rachel Berry blinked up at her. "You're Quinn Fabray?"

"The very same." Quinn replied, finding herself feeling contemptuous against the tiny little girl. "Rachel Berry I presume? I've heard so much about you from Kurt."

"All good things I expect." Rachel took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest. Her dark chestnut hair was curly that evening, different from how Quinn had seen her with it straight the week before. "So I'm sure you're going to ask for my autograph? I'm sorry but I don't have a pen and paper."

"No thanks, I'm not even really quite sure who you are." Quinn gave her a haughty grin. "Now if you excuse me."

Quinn shoved past her, angry at the type of girl she was. Quinn hated when people tried to undermine her, make her feel lesser than them. Ever since she got to New York every single person was doing that to her. She had enough of it.

She pushed open the door at the end of the hallway and waited as Kurt and Mercedes followed through. "She's a real gem." Quinn snapped at Kurt. "Why were you talking her up so much earlier?"

"Because I didn't know who you were! I was name dropping!" Kurt protested, narrowing his eyes and folding his arms over his chest. "Besides, everyone here finds her an annoying little attention hog."

"I can see that." Quinn said easily. "So what was it you wanted to show me?"

"Nothing really," Mercedes laughed. "We wanted you to meet Rachel."

At first Quinn just looked at her before joining in on their laughter. Maybe they weren't so bad. Just maybe.

An hour or so later Quinn found herself leaning against the bar waiting patiently for another drink. The bartenders were busy helping a few strapping young gentlemen with almost ten beers, probably supplying a group of girls they wanted to get drunk. Quinn tapped the heels of her shoes on the floor in rhythmic motion. The group she'd come in with had disappeared again and she was all alone at the table in the back. She didn't mind, Quinn liked time to herself. To think, to observe.

"Well, well look what we have here."

Quinn looked over shoulder, expecting a drunk sailor and his friends. Instead, she found someone else. "Puck, wasn't it?"

"Sure thing doll face," Puck gave her a flirty wink and walked on over next to her. He was dressed similar to how he was when they first met, white button up and black dress pants. He, of course, had the signature smirk placed on his rugged features. "Don't you look sharp."

"Thank you," Quinn replied, eyeing him carefully. She leaned back against the bar and crossed on foot over the other.

"Took my advice, I see there." He continued, looking her up and down. "And might I say it is a million dollar difference."

"That's enough," she snapped, offended that she was that bad before. Quinn crossed her arms over her chest. "Can I help you with something?"

"Let me buy you a drink."

She knew boys like Puck. She gave him her own once over before responding, "Thank you, but I'm getting myself a drink."

"You here with a date?" he raised his eyebrows, just as the bartender made his way over to them.

"What can I get for you sweetheart?" he asked, warm eyes looking down at Quinn. Once he noticed Puck standing next to her, his eyes hardened. "Puck, what did I say about trying to pick up girls when you're working?"

Working? Quinn pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. "Right-o Schue." Puck gave him a salute, winked at Quinn, and disappeared off into the crowd.

"Sorry about that, he doesn't know his boundaries very well. Anyway, what can I get for you?"

Quinn leaned over the bar, gave him her best showbiz smile and said, "How's about a job?"


	4. Chapter 4

Will Schuester was a handsome man who had just turned thirty three. His entire life had been spent working for his dad out in the country on their farm, but the moment he had turned seventeen, he'd shipped himself off to New York City with dreams of the show business. But after a few misadventures he had found himself connected to some shady business ventures and eventually lost all of his money gambling. He ended up in debt to the biggest crook in New York City, Sylvester and had to pay back his debt managing Sylvester's night club, McKinley.

What had started as a terrible, terrible experience had turned positive for Will, as he soon grew to love and cherish his job. Plus, he got to perform once in a while, which never hurt. He found himself adoring shaping young performers and molding them into the talent that he knew could prosper. He had a knack for picking out the right stars from obscurity, his most famous pick being Rachel Berry, who, although talented beyond compare, was a bit of a head case.

And the beautiful blonde standing in front of him, for the first time, Will was baffled.

She had one of the best looking faces he had ever seen, yet he was worried it was almost too angelic for this town. She seemed so naïve and innocent and was in need of a rude awakening that would undoubtedly send her racing for wherever she called home.

"A job?" Will coughed, setting down the glass he was about to fill. "I don't think-"

"Before you say no," she protested, leaning closer to him. Will got a strong whiff of her perfume, flowery, reminding him of a garden. "Let me tell you that I've danced my entire life, since I was four. I can do anything, tap, ballet, ballroom you name it. I'm incredibly easy to work with and I only want to dance. I also have some experience bussing tables back in Ohio, if you're looking for that. Just, please."

Will sighed, he'd heard the spiel before. A young, bright eyed beautiful girl waltzes into a big, booming club asking for a job. By the time he gives it to them, they're terrified of the big, bad city and are back in Kansas or Idaho or wherever before their first shift. "Sweetheart, do you know how many people have asked me that today? Four, not including you."

"I'm different from them," she argued, leaning backward a bit, distancing herself from Will.

"And why is that?" Will shook his head, he wasn't in the mood to humor her.

"Just, just give me an audition. You'll see. I'll prove it to you." Quinn's pearly white teeth were flashed to him again and Will felt himself caving.

"Fine. Tomorrow, eleven. If you're even a minute late, no audition."

…

A few minutes past midnight, as the thick smoke wafted out the bottom of the steel door that encased the secrets-ridden McKinley club, a fuming young starlet leaned against the wrought-iron fence. She wore an expensive fur coat, pulled tightly over her bosom and a lit cigarette rested clumsily in between her fingers. Her foot tapped restlessly against the pavement, as if she was waiting for someone and they were much too late for her tastes.

"Damn baby, ain't you a pretty 'lil thing."

The girl had barely looked over her shoulder before rolling her eyes. "What do you want Puck?"

Puck moved around the corner of the building, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth as he shrugged. He titled his chin up at her, "You goin' someplace, Berry?"

Rachel shook her head, resisting the urge to roll her eyes again. "Not that it's any of your business, Puckerman, but I've got a date."

"A date?" The mohawked boy whistled, his arm brushing against her coat as he leaned against the fence next to her. "Who is the unlucky boy that's gotta parade you 'round town?"

She huffed, elbowing him in the stomach before turning on her heels. "If you're only going to be rude to me, I'd rather not be in your presence."

"Ah, come on Berry," Puck reached for her wrist just as Rachel lurched it away with a frown. "You know m'only kiddin."

Rachel didn't even bother to look over her shoulder at him as she stalked down the sidewalk, the rhythmic clicking of her heels over overpowering the muffled jazz from behind the mysterious door. Puck shook his head, "Fuckin' diva."

The door opened again, and Puck's glance turned away from the brunette to see a very perky looking Quinn Fabray hurry up the steps. His eyes glazed over her, smirking to himself. He loved that she took his advice, meant a cute little thing like her was thinking about him.

She was at the top of the stairs before she noticed him, "Oh!" she gasped, touching her heart and stumbling back a bit. He watched the way her mouth formed an O in surprise, and turned around to lean against the fence on his elbows. "You scared me!"

"You seem like you're in quite the good mood," Puck observed, eyeing her bright smile and rosy cheeks.

"Do you always do this?" Quinn asked, taking a step forward towards him, tightening the jacket around her. Not a fur coat, like Rachel's, but Puck could tell it was expensive. He could almost imagine the new car he'd be able to buy if he snagged but of their jackets and sold 'em. Puck had been looking at a set of new wheels for a while, thinking about moving out of the city into one of those big mansions where bootleggers threw those lavish parties. He could see himself being one of those guys, with a pretty little number on his arm and his boys at his sides. The only thing standing in his way was money, something that was being harder and harder to come by now that Schuester wasn't so sure he wanted alcohol in the club. Puck was the distributor to McKinley. He worked for someone else, somebody he didn't exactly know and had never seen the face of, and he was certain he never wanted to. All Puck knew was his job, bring the liquor to Schuester, get paid, drop it off to the middle man, receive his share a few days later. Simple, no questions asked.

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on people," she pursed her lips together, taking another step toward him. "You're that shady kind of guy, aren't you?"

He flashed her a toothy grin, "The shadiest sonuva bitch you'll ever meet."

Quinn looked mildly amused, "Well as nice as it is to being talking to New York City's unfinest, I should really be going."

"Let me take you out for a drink first," Puck protested.

Quinn eyed him carefully, dripping over the white tank top and black dress pants he wore. Sure, there was no denying Puck's attractiveness, but he was just so underdressed. She did not understand how he could still look so suave while looking so dirty. "I'll pass, but thanks again for the advice."

The thin little blonde winked at him before sauntering down the sidewalk much like Rachel had a few minutes prior. Puck frowned, watching for the second time that night as a girl walked away from him.

He got over it quickly, though, as he whistled on his way back into the club.

…

"Five six seven eight!"

As the orchestra poured out the smooth jazz tones, Quinn Fabray scurried up on stage. She wore a much simpler dress than the night before, this time just a pale blue smart little number and white heels perfect for tapping. She hoped to making a lasting impression while still appearing like an intelligent young woman.

Will Schuester sat at the table in the front row, a pile of paperwork in front of him. He looked stressed, overwhelmed even. Around him the maintenance crew was cleaning the floors and the tables, and the bartenders were restocking. She had yet to see Puck, or Kurt, or any of the other so called stars of McKinley. "Whenever you're ready," Will mumbled with a flick of his wrist.

"You're not even looking up and there isn't any music for me," Quinn narrowed her eyes, mumbling quietly. He, however, could not hear her over the roar of the practicing orchestra. She quickly turned around, pinched her eyes shut, muttered a quick prayer, and spun around.

The entire club was pitch black and a single spotlight shown down on her. From the glare of the lights, the audience was simply a blur, no faces could be seen. Quinn couldn't help but press her lips together in awe, as the band started to chime in behind her. First the trumpets, cooing a soft melodious tempo, then the percussion with it's daring beats, and finally the clarinet, fluttering in and out in random patterns.

She was in front of a sold-out club, not a single seat untaken. Around her lined up twelve or so dancers, dressed in sequined little numbers. The men in tight black pants and the women wearing all white too-scandalous-for-bathing-gear dresses. Quinn looked down to no longer see her blue little dress, but instead the sheer black, skin tight gown that clung to her curves and went past the floor. Quinn spun for a moment, feeling the scratchiness against her bare skin, before allowing a mischievous smirk to grow on her lips.

Just as the music came to the correct place, Quinn spun around on her heels, twirling and revealing a scandalous cut in the dress all the way up to her mid thigh. Just then the dancers filed in around her, two men picking her up under her arms and lifting her into the air. Quinn's leg pointed out, revealing silver glittered slippers that Cinderella was sure to feel envy for.

She let out a loud laugh, which floated across the stage and into the audience, who laughed in return. After the men spun her around twice, she was set on the stage and two female dancers came and grabbed the ends of her dresses, tugging, and sending her spinning. The bottom half of the dress flew off to reveal the fringe hanging down her legs.

"Now," Quinn heard, whether she herself had whispered the words and one of the dancers around her. The music slowed to an even tempo as she moved across the stage. Her heels hit the stage, her feet were dancing, the loud 'click-click' echoing through the club. Quinn glided across the stage, feeling more alive than she ever had in her entire nineteen years of life.

And then everything stopped.

"Nice work Quinn,"

She blinked. She was back on the old stage, dressed in her smart little blue dress. She had just finished dancing and was currently on the other side of the stage. "Oh, um, thank you," she managed to choke out, looking up at Schuester expectantly. Her fingers wrapped around the hem of her dress as she moved quickly to the edge of the stage. "Don't you want to see my ballet? I mean I've-"

"Seems I was wrong about you," he was grinning, tipping his pen in her direction. "I haven't seem someone move so gracefully in years. Rehearsals start at one."

With that, the handsome man shoved his papers into a pile and hurried away toward the back office. On the stage, Quinn Fabray cheered, jumping in the air and clapping her hands. She had completely dazed out during the audition, but she figured it must have been some of her best dancing yet to have impressed Schuester so much.

…

"Another dancer Schue?"

Will looked up from his desk, filling out paperwork for Sylvester that she had tossed on his desk earlier that morning. He hated the woman, she was nothing but a pain in his ass, never doing anything for herself. It made him sick, but he did it anyway. If not for himself, for the kids. "She's only made past the first round, Santana, there are still rehearsals," he paused for second, eyes grazing over her body, "and put some clothes on."

The girl in front of him scowled, taking another step through the door, her presence demanding attention. "This is the third new girl in the last month," her voice was like poison, stinging and harsh. She rested her hands on the front of his desk, leaning over until she was certain he had a full frontal view of her breasts. A cruel smirk curled onto her lips, "Come on Schuester, what makes you think that string bean is going to be able to make in the big times?"

"She's good," Schuester shrugged, his eyes flickering away from her chest back toward her face, which was equally dangerous. He quickly looked back down at his paperwork. "We could use her talent."

"Brittany is good. Tina is good. _I'm good_." Santana sneered, leaning closer until her face was merely inches away from him. "We don't need another dancer, especially when all you're having is Berry on that stage alone."

Will sighed, looking up at the young girl, "How many times do I have to tell you that you'll get your solo?"

"You keep telling," Santana hissed, her eyes narrowing viciously. "But you haven't given it to me. How times do I have to remind you of that?" Immediately she looked away, standing up and moving toward the door and shaking her head.

"Santana," Will heaved a loud sigh.

Santana whipped her head over her shoulder, "What? What could you possibly say this time? I promise you'll get your shot next show? You're the head dancer Santana, you'll get there soon, I promise! I promise. I promise. I fucking promise!" Her voice got louder as she was close to tears. The lump in her throat grew bigger, "You know, you're full of broken promises. For me, for the other dancers. We auditioned, got the slot, and you tell us we're gonna be stars. Fucking huge, names on everybody's lips. But instead, I still haven't gotten my shot. I'm still just a nothing'. I'm still little Santana Lopez with dreams that are never gonna come true."

"Santana," he repeated, pushing himself off of his chair. "Come on, I didn't mean to-"

"Screw you Will," she whispered, shaking her head and stepping toward the door. He rushed to her side, his hand wrapping around her wrist and pulling her away. She wouldn't look at him, but she didn't try to move away.

Slowly, Will moved his other hand over her shoulder, pushing the door closed. He leaned his forehead against hers, the tears on her cheeks staining his own. "You can't make up every lost solo by fucking me," she mumbled, although the tone of her voice betraying her. She pressed her lips together before pouting, "But it doesn't hurt."

Will laughed, using his hand to whip away the tears, before closing the gap between them.

* * *

**Notes:** More characters introduced. Look forward to Sam coming up soon! And reviews are lovely, thank you!


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